


Finding a Way Home

by hope170



Category: Un monstre à Paris | A Monster in Paris (2011)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 11:42:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope170/pseuds/hope170
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The old man was a collector of rare creatures from all over the world. He reveled in his collection, but it was never enough. The woman was another one of his specimens, someone he kept around to show off to anyone and everyone.</p><p>She was tired. Always tired. Over the years she grew numb.</p><p>But she still felt empathy. This new creature did not belong cooped up in a cage like the others. The old man would find her out, she knew that, and she knew she would be punished. But he did not belong. He needed yo find a way home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Creature

was obvious he treasured the creature above all others.

He returned from his trip to France excited, bursting into the mansion like a tornado. He made sure to let everyone know about the creature and what a find it was.

"All the way from Paris, can you believe it? A real monster! Who could have thought something like it could stay hidden for so long!"

He went on to brag for ages, but despite all his words, little of the monster was actually revealed to the servants of the house. Indeed, it was shrouded in mystery, and the Master seemed to like it that way. Though he went on and on about it, he refused to let anyone see it, hoarding the creature jealously in the basement like a dragon hoarding its gold.

Only one other was permitted to see the creature. The servants knew little of her; she was just as mysterious as the new creature.She was rarely seen, flitting about the estate like a ghost, her deathly pale skin and shocking white hair adding to the illusion. The Master was rather fond of her, treating her like his own daughter at times. Despite that, very few servants actually knew where she had come from.

The Master lead her into the dungeon of a basement, past the cages filled with rare animals, monsters, and other abominations. She dreaded walking through these rooms, the poor creatures, mutilated and starving, reminded her of the dark days she spent in her own far too small cage. The whole place permeated with a feeling of desperation and fear.

He did not seem to notice, or perhaps he didn't care. He eagerly lead her past the cages and through the rooms, finally pausing at one of the small doors. He used the rooms behind these doors for his especially rare creatures. They were perfect for watching the creatures, which the Master often did when bored. 

The door was opened. The room beyond was dark, a cloud of black of which the oil lamps found difficult to light up. The bars cut the room in half, a small iron door to the side. She could just make out the creature in the dim light.

The outline of its body was jagged, it's back covered in spike-like protrusions. What stood out the most, though, were it's giant, orange-red eyes that glowed in the dark corner like fire.

"Isn't it amazing!" 

The Masters voice cut her inspection short. She nodded obediently, pretending not to notice the fear in those glowing eyes. 

The Master sighed, a thin and withered hand resting on the bars. He whispered to none.

"A true monster of Paris."


	2. The Circus

Lucille said it was called a circus.

It was a loud and colorful place full of laughter and joy, and Francoeur loved it! his curiosity was peaked, making him investigate every little thing they came across like an over rambunctious child. Lucille had quite a job of trying yo keep him relatively calm.

Though all their friends knew of Francoeur's true nature, most of Paris remained ignorant. It was thought best to keep it that way; though kind and beautiful, Paris could still be cruel and cold to those who are different. They did their best to keep him safe, but it was difficult when he got especially excited, as he was now.

Despite that, they were truly enjoying themselves. They met up with Emile and Maud when they showed up, and later Raol when he was finished with his deliveries. They all entered the giant, multicolored tent together, talking and laughing amongst themselves.

Francoeur was absolutely captivated by the show, hardly blinking as he took in every movement, every twirl from the trapeze, every thrown ball of the jugular. It was all so fascinating to him, something he had never seen the like of before.

Lucille watched his reactions with amusement. He could be such a child at times, yet so mature as well. He was always so curious and innocent, but seemed to understand some emotions and behaviors she still struggled with. Sometimes she wished she could talk to him, understand what was going on that strange head of his. The best option she had was his songs, but those can be confusing and hard to understand entirely sometimes.

The show ended and the lights flared into life. Nobody was quite ready to go home yet, so they roamed the grounds, getting louder as the day wore on.

When it had started to get dark, a few stars just starting to wake up in the sky, Emile and Maud decided that it was about time that they got home. Raol remained for a long while later, not leaving till the moon was nearly half way through the sky, finally driving off in Catherine. It was only then that Francoeur and Lucille started heading home to the cabaret. 

They were silent the whole way home, Francoeur running the day through his head, a slight smile on his face. 

They turned onto a street. It was strangely empty, nobody walking along the road and all the windows closed. Gradually, the sound of footsteps came from behind them. A heavily accented voice rang out to greet them.

"Why hello friends!"

They turned to meet the owner of the voice. He was an old man, little hair remaining on his head but a giant mustache like a sleeping caterpillar hung from his upper lip. He was much shorter, his head only reaching a bit past Lucille's waist. He was well dressed, clearly a rich and powerful man. Behind him stood two men. The one to the left had black curly hair, and the right was completely shaved with a wispy beard.

"Good evening, monsieur, and how is your night?" Lucille answered him.

The old man smiled wide, eye's squinting slightly.

"I'm doing quite well, my lady, quite well."

Francoeur got an odd feeling from the overly friendly man. He put a protective gloved hand on Lucille's shoulder, eyeing the two larger men. The old man seemed to notice, but did not mention it.

"I saw you at the fair earlier today." He told Francoeur. "You looked like an interesting man, and i truly wanted to meet you." He paused as if waiting for a response.

Lucille spoke up. "I'm sorry monsieur, but he doesn't like to talk."

The man nodded again. "Yes, I know a someone quite like that. She's a very sweet girl, but often times she is misunderstood and considered cold and rude." 

There was an awkward pause.

"Well, it was very nice to meet you uh.. monsieur, but we need to be getting home. We have work tomorrow."

The man laughed, nodding in understanding. "Ah yes, of course. Just one more thing ma'am."

She looked at him in confusion, Francoeur's hand leaving her shoulder. She felt more then saw him move behind her, hissing. She spun on the spot, seeing two more men behind them, Francoeur falling limp on the ground. Before she could yell for help there was a sharp pain on her neck. She grew groggy and fell as well.

The man continued to smile, walking over to the prone figure of Francoeur. The two men propped him up, the man removing his white mask to show his true face.   
He nodded in satisfaction.

A car pulled up next to them, the men lifting Francoeur into the back of it. They drove away, leaving Lucille alone on the empty street.


	3. the Strangers

He did not understand what these people were saying. They spoke a different language, one that was harsh and seemed to hold no room for beauty. The men and woman barked their words at each other like dogs. 

In all honesty, he preferred those harsh words to the silence he now lived in. 

It was a heavy silence that pressed in on him, encompassing his body and mind, making it hard to think. Between that and the dark shadows of his cell, he often times lost track of himself. It felt as if he was the only one in the whole world, completely and utterly alone. It made him curl into himself, desperately missing all his friends. Sweet Lucille, anxious Emile, rambunctious Raoul. He wondered if he would ever see them again.

Sometime later, whether it was hours or days he could not tell, there was a noise. It snapped him out of his own mind, bringing everything into sharp focus.

It sounded like footsteps coming from behind the door, a thin reedy voice barking in that strange language. The door rattle as it was opened, two figures emerging from the pitch beyond. 

He recognized the thin old man immediately, causing hot fear to well up in his gut. The memory of that night hung like a fat bird, firmly roosted in his mind. 

The other one he did not know. She was rather small, though not quite as short as the old man, still a head taller. For a moment he wondered if something was wrong with his eyes, but no, he was seeing everything just fine. The woman was white. From her hair to her clothes, everything was the same shade. The only color to her was her eyes, like a deep red mahogany.

They did not stay long and he was soon plunged back into that lonely state.

**Author's Note:**

> Please keep in mind that this is a work in progress. If I somehow manage to finish it, (which I may or may not), then I may or may not rewrite it as well. Thank you for your consideration! Now on to the story!


End file.
